


Deleted Scenes (or, the top five band experiences that won't be in Steven Smith's autobiography)

by turnyourankle



Category: Fall Out Boy, Katy Perry - Fandom, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, The Used
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 09:18:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4823543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnyourankle/pseuds/turnyourankle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The top five band experiences that won't be in Steven Smith's autobiography</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deleted Scenes (or, the top five band experiences that won't be in Steven Smith's autobiography)

**Author's Note:**

> This is completely self-indulgent fic that I've wanted for a really long time; I wanted to include more bands but I ran out of steam, perhaps another time. And it is, as usual, completely fake.

1.

The first clue Steven gets that the entire scene is a set-up is that Zack lets him into the dressing room with a nod. As if he wouldn't know what his devil children were up to in there.

"You know, Steve, I've been thinking," Brendon says, and he looks serious; he even has a line on his forehead. He's got what looks like a cigarette in his hand, but from the smell Steven can tell it's something else entirely. "I think you and Spence are practically married."

"That's...definitely not what I was expecting," Steven says, waiting for the punchline.

"Where can you return Brendons?" Spencer says, unamused.

"Seriously, Spence, you guys have the same last name! I bet that's all it takes to be married in some countries."

"By your logic I'd be legally married to half the people in this country. I'm sure my mom will be pleased."

"Right! Spread your seed, Spencer, spread it like the wind!"

Ryan doesn't bother looking over at them, and says, "That's disgusting."

"I'm not sure I want to know where you got that theory," Steven says.

"Man, you must seriously be the coolest teacher ever." Brendon tells him with this flashy smile; if it were a street sign it'd be blinking and bright. Steven would think that he's flirting except Brendon uses that smile on everyone, all the time.

"I'm not actually a teacher anymore. May I?" Steven gestures at the bowl of chips in Jon's arms, and Jon shrugs, handing over the bowl.

"'f course, they're your chips to begin with."

"Except it's way cooler that you used to be one and now you're a VJ. I bet way more kids are listening to you know. Although I don't think a smoking teacher-cum-vj is that good of a role model," Ryan says, and there seems to be a bite to it, not mean, just poignant.

"I'll disregard that veiled insult, cause that's me, molding the young plastic minds of America," Steven says, groping air. "I guess it's a good thing I'm not smoking."

"Hmm? Oh." Ryan looks up, and his face goes slack. "Brendon don't be rude; stop hogging the joint." Ryan loosens his tie, and it creates a nice straight line down the length of his chest.

Steven puts his hands up in protest, and he manages a feeble, "Oh, uh, I'm actually--"

"Allergic? Asthmatic? For god's sake don't kill the man, Ryan." Brendon says, keeping the joint between his fingers.

"No, I was just going to say that--I'm not sure how good of an idea smoking is considering there's a no-smoking indoors guideline, or well, it's more of a _rule_ , and there's a smoke detector up there." Steven gestures to the ceiling, and only then does he notice that the alarm isn't blinking. "Huh."

"There are some upsides to having legal giants in your band," Ryan says in a tone that can actually pass as sunny. Spencer rolls his eyes.

That's the second clue, and the third, well, the third is Jon getting up and locking the door once Steven takes the blunt.

 

 

Steven was never particularly good at Texas Hold 'Em, but even he knows what a straight flush is supposed to look like, and yet, that's what makes him lose his wifebeater. "I didn't peg you as that kinda guy," Jon says when he sees it, eyebrow quirking.

Steven's always been a 'the glass is half-full' kind of guy, he's finding it kind of hard to be happy about only having his socks left to peel off before getting to his boxers. "I'm not entirely sure how I'm the only one who ended up with his clothes off--"

"That's not true, I had to take off my scarf," Ryan interrupts, scratching his bare neck.

"--right, that's tragic, really. I grieve your loss. But. Really, are you sure you know the rules? This all seems pretty arbitrary to me."  
  
"What can I say? S'how the Vegas Hold 'Em works, are you challenging me?" Spencer huffs, and he sort of--no, he _definitely_ flips his hair. Huh. It would be funny if it weren't kind of weird and ridiculously cute.

Jon says, "Don't challenge him."

"Well wuddya lookat that." Brendon's smile is all lopsided, and he's splayed himself out on the floor, legs over Jon's bent knees and elbows digging into Ryan's thighs. Or what there exists of Ryan's thighs. He's doing this strange elbow crawl towards Steven, and it's completely ridiculously over-the-top, and Steven can't stop staring.

"How about ya don't." Steven says, and Brendon bats his eyelashes at him, and it's extremely unsexy save for the fact that his pout really is. Hot. And his hair is the freshly-fucked kind of messy, which makes Steven wonder what happened _before_ the show if this is what happens after. It presses tons of Steven's buttons.

He tries looking elsewhere, and notices Spencer's face looks really red behind his fanned cards, and Jon who's laid himself smack down on Spencer's lap. Steven can't actually see Jon's hands, but by the way Jon's sort of rubbing himself Spencer and Spencer's lip-biting...Steven can guess what's going on.

Ryan's dropped his cards and letting his weight rest on his elbows, and his shirt is definitely far more unbuttoned than it was when Steven walked in.

"Whoa, dudes," Steven chokes out, and Brendon tugs on one of his socks. He has a blinding smile on, and Steven lets his sock glide off his foot. The glass is totally half full.

Brendon turns back to Ryan, who's smiling too, but it's more of an amused half-moon of a smile, and he says, "See? I told you he'd totally be into it!"

 

 

The fourth clue is something Steven won't mention, ever. He even signed a contract saying so. Which is the fifth clue.

 

 

 

2.

The paper towel crumbles in Steven's hand, and he sighs, exhausted. "As much as I appreciate the artistry and craft and hard-work that went into this, I'd really like to know how to get this stuff off, exactly?"

He's already soaked through two t-shirts with sweat, and yet his Chemical make-up is only slightly smudged, the black running down his cheek and the white only slightly transferring to his hands when he rubs his face.

"Uh, usually like, sweat it off on stage?" Gerard squints at him with his squeaky clean face. "It tends to fade after like, ten hours anyway."

"Or really vigorous sex works. Usually." Frank sneers, and flashes a shit-eating grin that really doesn't bode well. Steven's pretty sure he must be imagining the look.

"How about a shower? A shower should work, right?"

Frank snorts. "Ha, Gerard would be doomed if the clean-up were shower dependent."

"Be nice, asshole, I can make Bert to pee in your bunk."

"Dude, that's so off-limits; no water-sports until I get a fucking ring."

Gerard rolls his eyes. He turns to Steven. "It's water proof, so dunno. But I've got this kick-ass make up remover you can borrow."

"Excellent." Steven catches the bottle and towel when Frank tosses them at him.

"Might as well keep it, dude, who knows where the fuck those hands of yours have been." Frank's grinning again, and he cracks up as soon as Gerard glances at him.

 

 

 

3.

Pete's idea of someone being in on a bet is them being in the room when it's discussed. Steven learns this the hard way when the car Fuse sent gets hijacked by Dirty on a dare, cameraman inside and all.

"I told you he'd pull it off!" Pete practically howls, and hands Steven a mascot head that looks like a hybrid of a dinosaur and an ant. It's terrifying. "One size fits all."

"I never said he _couldn't_ , just that it wouldn't be a good idea and that it'd probably have some severe repercussions." He stops for a second, and looks at Andy. "I totally walked into that one, didn't I?"

"Out of the frying pan, into the fire." Andy chuckles, shaking his head.

"Dude, you know what they say, don't play the game if you don't know the rules."

"You can hitch a ride with us 'til the next stop," Patrick says, double checking the tuning on his guitar. "But you're gonna have to shower before sleeping in the extra bunk."

"Excuse me?"

"You're definitely gonna need a shower, dude. Last time Dirty rolled into bed right after being on stage the bus smelled like rotten eggs and puke for the rest of the tour." Joe makes a face, mouth and eyebrows all knotted. "That shit latches onto your clothes like a mofo."

"Eggs?"

"S'all part of the stage show, I bet Dirty was thrilled to escape." Patrick says. "You are a brave man, Steven Smith."

"I bet. Sounds like I had it coming though." Steven takes a breath and puts on the mascot-head. It feels like a portable head-oven.

"We need to get you a name tag, it's only fair." Pete's grinning way too wide as he uses something that looks a whole lot like permanent (silver) marker to write S T E V E N on Steven's stomach.

"For some reason I suspect your concept of what's 'fair' would astonish philosophers for years." Steven mutters, even though he's pretty sure no one can hear him. It's just as well.

"Don't forget the bullseye briefs," Patrick adds, adjusting his cap. "Right's right."

 

 

Steven didn't actually mind acting as an on-stage target for the show, and he made sure to show Pete his appreciation by giving him a wet hug right after the show, smearing some egg into his hair and rubbing his chest thoroughly against Pete's shirt. It's supposed to do wonders for hair, after all.

He wasn't surprised to find his clothes missing after his shower.

 

 

 

4.

Katy taps the mic against her shoulder, pointing her foot towards Steven and poking him with her toes. "Soooo. I flipped a coin before the interview on whether I should tell you this or not and I said heads would be yes and tails would be no, and I got tails but I said fuck that shit, I'm not going to let a coin decide over me, and really, I kinda need one of those head coins Harvey Dent's got because that's just ridiculously rad." She catches her breath for a second. She doesn't sound nervous, just rambly as she lets her voice amble. "Anyway, as I was saying. You. Are totally on my List for this week."

"Your list for this week."

"No--my _L_ ist." She raises her eyebrows as she says it, and she does this weird finger clawing gesture, as if she were a cat.

"You mean like--," he can't even finish the sentence, and he glances at the camera to make sure it's not still rolling. He hasn't forgotten about the Warped pranks segment discussion.

"Oh yeah, exactly like _that_."

It's enough to throw him off a little; he wraps the cord for his mic around his hand until it's tight before puffing out a breath.

"Well I--I'm quite, quite flattered." He bites his lip, and Katy mirrors his move. It's a dirty move; it looks way hotter on her. "I believe I know your boy--person? And while I by no means think I would falter in a fight in general I'm pretty sure I'd falter in a fight with him. Actually make that fold. Like a house of cards. I might actually surrender before the fight and then run very, very far away."

"Oh well, duh, you're totally on his list too."

"Duh," he says hesitantly. She nods.

"So you know, think it over," she fake whispers it, as loud as her regular talking but hoarser. She picks some invisible lint off his shoulder, letting her palm brush against his arm. She does this exaggerated wink and grin before handing over the mic, asking, "You probably want this back? I have to go freshen up my lipstick."

 

 

 

 

5.

"Steven, you dick! You need to have some of our double stuffed pineapple sandwich before I eat your fucking _face_. And don't you dare wash that fucking face paint off."


End file.
